Favorite movies only need apply. Life is too short to write about what I didn't enjoy.

There may be a woman at the helm of Ethiopia as a country, but there is still a long road to travel for women in the Ethiopian film industry. In fact, while still plentiful considering the small number of male counterparts, —Haile Gerima is probably the best known filmmaker hailing from the country in the West — Ethiopian women filmmakers can still be only counted on the fingers of one hand. Maybe two.

Aalam-Warqe Davidian defies those odds, singlehandedly, bringing a tale inspired by her own teenage years growing up in the midst of the Ethiopian civil war. In 1989, to be more exact, is when her film ‘Fig Tree’ takes place, in a remote area of the country.

A typical present day college party. A girl. A guy. They hook up and go the man’s pink hued apartment, yes pink you read that right, to be alone together. But this is the age of #MeToo and nothing is quite the way it used to be. I mean, and just the pink lights of the man’s apartment alone should have given that away!

We’ve been tricked by popular cinema, comic books and TV into believing that heroes are mighty and great — lacking all fear and devoid of any fault. It’s easier to write a hero as an all-around perfect man. But in real life, heroes are those who defy their greatest fears to accomplish something which goes beyond anything they could ever have imagined. Real-life heroes don’t lack fear, rather they act in spite of this paralyzing instinct. And their faults usually outnumber their merits, just as they do with any of us, if we get down to the nitty gritty tally of it all.

In fact, I believe that oftentimes, heroes end up being heroes despite their best intentions.

The Palestinian condition can be summed up in one word: Naqba — the Arabic word for “disaster”. While the Israelis celebrate their Independence Day each May, the Palestinian population mourns the loss of their land, liberty and peace on exactly the same date. It’s one of the most tragic contradictions of our times.

But the Palestinian people are nothing if not resilient. Through their ordeal they’ve made beautiful cinema, see Elia Suleiman, created mind blowing art like Nabil Anani and succeeded in sports. I could think of several examples of each. I mean, Palestinian singer Mohammed Assaf became the second ever Arab Idol in 2014 despite the fact that he wasn’t even allowed into Egypt, where the competition was filmed. While walls are built to keep them in, Palestinian figure out more and better ways to overcome those obstacles and become better, stronger and more successful.

Letizia Battaglia, her last name not incidentally means “battle,” has been a one-woman army fighting that decline. Through her photographs of the Mafia and the destruction it caused in her home city of Palermo — courageous because each one could have meant her death by execution, if only for having captured the soul of the unworthy, or the wrong moment in time — Battaglia has shown the world what courage, resilience and being Italian really does mean, at its highest form.

It’s a fact that there has never been such a movement of global general uprooting, in the history of our planet. Most of us feel deep inside ourselves a sense of dissatisfaction and the easiest way to deal with it seems to be to pick up and leave -- for work, love or life experience. But that can also turn into the most difficult decision of our life, because sometimes you cannot go home again.

As an old friend used to remind me, in moments when even traveling to the other end of the planet hadn’t really fulfilled its purpose, “Nina, the problem is that when you travel, no matter where you go, you’ll always take yourself along.” It’s so true, our inner struggles transfer well, hidden within the deep recesses of our beings. And even the furthest journey sees us as our sometimes unfortunate travel companion.

Miguel Angel Moulet’s haunting, sultry and perfectly shot film ‘Todos Somos Marineros’ (‘We Are All Sailors’) tackles that idea, but also mixes in several other themes, including the rhythm of language and how we change depending on the words we speak, as well as the filmmaker’s own unresolved childhood family mysteries.

I’d read the reviews, both out of Cannes where the film premiered, and lately for its US release. A.O. Scott’s was my favorite for the NY Times, as it usually is. Then, I’d listened to friends — some admitted to breaking down after viewing the film, some pointed to the filmmaker’s problematic mishmosh of the Arab world with Iranian images.

But having missed ‘Le livre d’image’ (‘The Image Book’) at the Festival de Cannes, I had to view it for myself. And, it turns out, I did well to wait.

It’s a question that has played in my mind over and over in the last few months. Each of us has a distinct and very human way of dealing with personal tragedy, and none of it is wrong or right, I’ve figured out. It just is.

Filmmaker Anaïs Volpé says that her way of coping with terrorist attacks, which have hit very close to home, literally for the Parisian, is to turn blood into glitter and imagine that the victims have gone to a better place. We hear that time and time again, “they have gone to a better place now,” but in Volpé’s exquisite ‘Indemnes’ (which translates to “Unharmed”) that better place is filled with color, beauty, peace and harmony. It’s a beautiful view into the afterlife, complete with stylish golden jackets, from an artist who has had her own creative style from the get-go.

The Italian city of Trieste has always had its own particular history. From its Austro-Hungarian and Slovenian influences, to its proximity to the Croatian border, its people have enjoyed a special status. At the end of the 19th Century, Trieste had more Slovenian inhabitants than Slovenia's capital of Ljubljana and at the start of the 20th, great luminaries and intellectuals like James Joyce, Italo Svevo, Sigmund Freud, Zofka Kveder, Dragotin Kette, Ivan Cankar, Scipio Slataper, and Umberto Saba frequented the bustling cosmopolitan city.

To me, it has always been a city with a foot deeply planted in its Italian roots yet the other striding towards its Eastern European culture. A bridge city overlooking a port, filled with people of different ethnicities and speaking several languages and dialects. A utopia for the perfect world, a place where everyone truly, and mostly could get along. And have gotten along.

It’s interesting that in the same year, two prominent Iranian filmmakers made films where the idea came from the perils of social media. Of course, Jafar Panahi got the inspiration for ‘3 Faces’ from the myriad of fans who send him messages wanting to connect somehow with his talent and rotate in the moons of his celebrity-dom. Mani Haghighi instead with his ‘Pig’ found the humor within the stalking of sorts that happens on the feeds of Twitter and Instagram. And how these days we’ll do just about anything to be famous.

Of course, these two filmmakers are as different as filmmakers can be, yet their latest oeuvres are both featured in the upcoming Iranian Film Festival New York, which will run from January 10th to the 15th at the IFC Center. An event not to be missed.

Filmmaker Jafar Panahi has been banned by the Iranian government from making movies, for an unbelievably long while. Yet he continues undeterred in churning out one masterpiece after another. All shot in different locations, each time featuring a new cast of characters, Panahi’s films have continued undisturbed to be staples at international film festivals.

Those of us who know and love his distinct brand of filmmaking, where within his kind and well thought out delivery he still manages to packs a big punch, also follow him on social media. His Instagram alone is a pleasure for those who wish to witness a bit of his genius on a nearly daily basis. And in fact, it was his presence on social media that inspired his latest work — ‘3 Faces’. The film premiered in Cannes earlier this year and will be featured at the 1st Iranian Film Festival New York at the IFC Center in early January 2019.

I’ll admit straight away, I’m partial to Nanni Moretti’s art. I adore his style and his films have inspired various stages of my life. In fact, I find myself reconnected to my Italian roots so deeply thanks to him.

But I did go to watch his latest, the documentary ‘Santiago, Italia’ with a grain of skepticism. I mean, Moretti proved he’s capable of making a kind of documentary many years ago, in 1998 to be exact, with the reality based ‘Aprile’. But could he hold my interest for 80 minutes with an archival film based about the coup in Chile, the original horrors of a September 11th which came long before our US one, and left their fairly elected president dead, with many other tortured and missing?

That statement came from a woman in the audience, at the “In Conversation with Ralph Fiennes” that I was fortunate enough to moderate during this year’s Cairo International Film Festival. It was followed by a question about Fiennes’ latest directorial project, ‘The White Crow’, a moving, elegant film about Russian dancer extraordinaire Rudolf Nureyev’s defection to the West — and the events leading up to it.

But the question itself didn’t leave with me as lasting an impression as her statement, probably because in the very moment the woman uttered the above words, I stopped listening. I was too busy working out deep inside me why I hadn’t felt that way at all about Nureyev, and his decision depicted in the film. In the following days, I’ve worked out the answer. It’s a response I’ve probably been leading up to my entire life and career.

When I spoke to Italian filmmaker Roberto Minervini in Venice, I asked why he’d made ‘What You Gonna Do When the World’s On Fire?’ His answer still haunts me today, “one of the biggest reasons I made this film is that I realized that progressive America to which I belong, has accepted a level, a threshold of tolerance which includes inequality.” Minervini then added, as a mantra that now accompanies my own daily mundane struggles as a woman “there is no more fight for equality, lesser inequality has become the new equality.” We as a society tolerate, we no longer wholeheartedly accept or deny. And we seem to be OK with tolerating a lot of human beings.

In introducing Lorna Tucker’s latest documentary ‘Amá’ I feel like I must mention my fellow Italian Minervini, because I, like him and Tucker, wear a different pair of glasses when I look at American society today. I see America through the lenses of a first generation immigrant. I don’t see Trump as the new evil, but simply a reincarnation of all that is considered to be as “American as apple pie” — institutionalized racism and the persecution of people who are different and who have the courage to remain different.

Back in February during Berlinale, at the very start of this strange yet fateful year, I watched Laura Bispoli’s ‘Daughter of Mine’ and fell back in love with Italian cinema. I was then satisfied further in Cannes, where I got to watch three more fantastic Italian films — which included Matteo Garrone’s ‘Dogman’ and Alice Rohrwacher’s ‘Happy as Lazzaro’. Then Venice rolled around and there was ‘What You Gonna Do When the World’s on Fire?’ by Roberto Minervini and my personal, patriotic soul burst with pride.

Well, London audiences will soon be able to experience all of these titles in one place along with a selection that will include Laura Luchetti’s ‘Twin Flower’, Luca Guadagnino’s ‘Suspiria’ and Eduardo De Angelis’ ‘The Vice of Hope’. They are all part of the BFI’s London Film Festival Italian selection of cinematic picks from our peninsula.

The most haunting aspect of Iciar Bollain’s ‘Yuli’ is how the filmmaker finally places in front of us the question most artists struggle with: Should you live your life doing what you are meant to do, or should you choose to live your life doing what you wish to do?

It’s a question as old as life itself and to me, the commonplace description “struggling artist” never really meant the financial struggles faced by most young artists, rather the struggle those who create, anything, and everything must feel inside. When it’s a beautiful day outside, the artist is usually inside, practicing his or her craft. When it comes time to form a family, or a simple life around themselves, they must own up to the art first. While most looking in from the outside see only the acclaim and bed of roses, the thorns of being an artist are much more plentiful and painful.

“And despite the clamors and the violence, we tried to preserve in our hearts the memory of a happy sea, of a remembered hill, the smile of a beloved face.” — Albert Camus from ‘Resistance, Rebellion and Death: Essays’

As I watched Amos Gitai’s latest ‘A Tramway in Jerusalem’ with the usual anticipation I dedicate to all the works of the visionary Israeli filmmaker, I looked for the funny. After all, Gitai himself, in his director’s notes called Tramway “an optimistic and ironic metaphor of the divided city of Jerusalem”. In the synopsis of the film, the word “comedy” is used yet when I watched ‘A Tramway in Jerusalem’, more than once, I cried. Long, perfectly needed tears. The film world premiered out of competition at this year’s Venice International Film Festival.

Probably one of the most anticipated titles in Venice -- along with Luca Guadagnino's remake of Dario Argento's 'Suspiria' also a horror film -- is the opening work at the Venice International Film Critics Week, a cool sidebar of first features and shorts curated by film journalist Giona A. Nazzaro. 'Tumbbad' is a collaboration between two filmmakers from India, Rahi Anil Barve and Adesh Prasad and the synopsis alone gave me shivers…

During this year's Locarno Festival, a few of the films I watched although narrative features, felt more like documentaries. Wonderfully gratifying documentaries without judgement or a cliche point of view in sight.

One such film was Leonardo Guerra Seràgnoli's 'Likemeback'. Perhaps because of the spontaneous acting by three exceptional young women -- Angela Fontana as Danila, Denise Tantucci as Carla and Blu Yoshimi Di Martino as Lavinia -- or maybe due to Guerra Seràgnoli's script and intimate way of filming this trio of friends on vacation on a sail boat, 'Likemeback' felt real.

Unforced and unequivocally cool.

In this age of #MeToo and TimesUp movements, 'Likemeback' offers a cautionary tale on the power of female sexuality and seduction and how that can be harnessed for the worst intentions. But it also places us in a front row seat on viewing the dangers of social media, when in the hands of the young and inexperienced.

But Barbara Miller's latest documentary, '#Female Pleasure' which premiered in Locarno in their Semaine de la Critique sidebar and walked away with the Zonta Club Locarno Price for Extraordinary Social Commitment is a film chock-full of important messages and loaded with human causes. So, nothing less than a long title could do.